Meridsya's Pet 02: Boundaries

But Meridsya had tweaked my body so it felt even better than it ever had before, and I could feel her cock massaging my prostate on its way in and out.

So it wasn't just erotic, it was carnally stimulating as well.

I knew quite quickly, even as I struggled to think at all, that I was going to come without Meridsya touching my cock. I had no ability to think about it at time and couldn't know later whether it was simple prostate massaging or whether Meridsya had been toying with me. But I did know it was going to happen.

"Look at you," she said in a conversational tone of voice as she pounded my arse. "You're going to come from my cock in your arse. Such a slut."

I could only stare up at her mocking smirk and glittering -- literally -- eyes in helpless subservient lust and moan my agreement. I couldn't move. My entire body had gone weak and I could barely hold my legs in place. And her face filled my vision. Filled what little was left of my awareness that was not the fucking I was receiving.

"What are you, pet?" she asked.

"I'm your slut, Mistress!" It took a great deal of effort to form my lips and tongue around the words while every movement of her cock tried to shatter every thought my overwhelmed mind tried to assemble. I could barely manage it by getting every syllable out between thrusts: "I'm! ... your! ... slut! ... Mis! ... tress!"

It was only intelligible because of how fast she was fucking me.

"Yes, you are, aren't you?" her tone was amused, casual, while her body maintained a pace that would have me flushing and panting and wondering how long I could sustain it.

"My comeslut who is so desperate to come, you dress like that knowing it means you want to be used like a cheap whore."

I should have hated that. I should have rebelled at those words being used about anyone in my presence.

But I moaned with pathetic joy that Mistress had noticed me, had wanted to use me, had turned me into her cheap whore.

"Come, comeslut," she said.

I came.

My cock jerked, lifting away from my body. Meridsya had to have pulled a few magical strings. There is no normal way, in that position, that the first spurts from my cock should have slapped onto my face. But they did, hot and wet and shocking and utterly in tune with me being her meat to use.

Then Merdisya's hips were stationary, pressing into me, deep inside me as she leant down towards my face.

"That's what happens to good girls in my house. You're a good girl, aren't you?"

"Yes, Meridsya," I said, with what felt like the last energy I had, my voice small and humble.

She smirked again. "Good."

She plucked a tissue from a box on the table and swiped it across my face, then pulled out of my arse and stepped away, her skirt falling neatly into place as though her cock had never existed at all.

I had been wrong that I had been helplessly weak before. I had merely been mostly weak. When she pulled out of me, I went utterly boneless, my arms dropping away from my legs and my legs sprawling one onto the chair, the other somehow dropping to land on the floor with an ankle-jarring thud that should probably have broken the heel off my stiletto.

"Tidy yourself up and stand up," Meridsya said, actually reaching out to offer me a hand instead of turning and marching away.

I didn't so much move my other leg to the floor as manage to throw it there, but somehow I found the energy to push myself up and reach up with a shaking arm to take her hand.

I was so weak I couldn't even aim my hand properly. I had to try and snatch. With another smirk, she intercepted my flailing wrist.

She pulled me to my feet as though I weighed half of a feather, and I had to stumble against her and hold on to avoid falling. Which she had clearly and absolutely planned.

But after a few seconds, I was able to stand even on the heels, and smooth down my dress, although my panties were now history. I realised as I did that the single tissue Merdisya had brushed once over my face had done the job of a fistful of baby wipes, several minutes of thorough attention and a good moisturiser. My skin was clean and perfect. My dress was clean and dry.

That really showed how much Meridsya had meant for me to sit and feel the come drying between my leg and my kilt that morning.

She took my arm to lead me gently back into her rooms.

It was a degree of tenderness and intimacy that threw me for another total mental loop and, after the utter submissiveness I had experienced while being fucked, tied my brain in a knot around a lingering adoring worship of Meridsya as my Mistress. I felt a warm fuzziness that extended from my jangled brain all through my body, so it felt as though everywhere we were pressed together as we walked was flooded with endorphins -- which is not how that works, but it's the best explanation I do right now.

She had made herself so tall that despite my heels -- hers were, if anything, taller than mine, but when we were both in bare feet I had perhaps a centimetre on her normally -- I could rest my head on her shoulder for greater support as I took my faltering steps beside her assured ones. It should not have been possible for us to be so balanced or for her, in those shoes, to support me so well, but ... well, but Meridsya.

"You have done well, in just a day," she said, her tone now light and inconsequential as a Victorian innocent remarking on the weather. It did not help me regain any sort of mental footing.

"I am glad you walked into my net. Seiren chose well, and my ring confirmed it. I will reward her for that. And now that you are here, in my quarters and in my arms and in my bed and in my cunt and mouth --" she didn't change her tone even there -- "you are so very delicious and such a very rich meal. Fucking you has been the most satiating and enjoyable dining I've had for half a century at least. I had so much energy this morning, you really can not appreciate what that is like."

I walked beside her, my head on her shoulder, my body wanting to melt into hers, and absorbed compliments I didn't really understand with a mix of emotions that was not entirely happiness or pride. Having someone tell you that having sex with you is fantastic and they feed off it and it's empowering would be a fantasy for many people but hearing it in those circumstances did not overcome the fact that she was reminding me that, in stark terms, I was the cow being kept for its milk. I was aware of that even in the middle of my mind-fucked adoration.

"The thing is, you see, Lucas my dear pet, that among us in this world -- us demons -- the energy we draw from our pets and those humans we can ensnare or entice or simply steal from doesn't just satiate hunger. It is very real power."

She patted me lightly on the arm with her fingertips. "I had rather a win today, thanks in no small part to the fact I was able to turn up burning with the fresh energy you gave me this morning. So I am feeling in the mood to reward you."

Her final word coincided with us reaching the doors into her drawing room, and I stopped in astonishment when I saw the addition of a small table laden with food.

By that point, I was able to stand and walk by myself. So as Meridsya stood still, I took a few halting steps into the room.

"As I told you, pet, you don't need food now, but you humans do tend to enjoy it nonetheless, and it's healthy for you to go through the motions of eating."

She could have not said that -- or at least, not the last clause -- and it would have been better. But Meridsya was at least consistent in how little she appeared to care about little niceties like not saying the quiet part out loud.

I walked slowly up to the table, my heels clicking on the floor, feeling my hips sway as I slipped easily into a feet-crossing feminine movement and, at the edge of my consciousness, feeling my buttocks warm in anticipation of Meridsya's intense, unselfconscious gaze.

The spread was a wild jumble that looked like a medieval feast, or like Denethor's table when Pippin sang for him. There were platters and bowls but the entirety was a chaotic jumble of food. There were hunks and shavings of cold meats, soft and hard cheeses, dried and fresh fruit, crusty and soft breads and no apparent organisation.

My whole purpose of being there was to have sex, and she rewarded me with food, I thought light-headedly. Make that make sense.

I plucked a grape. It was a perfect grape. My mouth immediately remembered about watering and did so. I had to swallow before speaking.

"Will I need to... go through the motions?" I asked, without turning my head, as I picked up a dried apricot at random.

"I'm not into coprophilia or watersports," Meridsya said from so close behind me that I jumped and would have choked it I actually had something in my mouth instead of halfway there. "So, no."

She walked around me while I tried to compose myself again. "Sit. Eat. I enjoy watching my pets eat. It's a sensual delight I don't share."

I very deliberately wrapped a slice of prosciutto around a bread stick then, while looking Meridsya straight in the eyes, sensuously slid it into my mouth, wrapped my lips around it, bit through it then moaned happily while chewing.

There was an actual glint in her eyes, a spark of light that came and went. She seemed, although it may have been my hope, to be amused.

I sat. I ate.

I ate a lot.

I ate indiscriminately, grabbing handfuls of things to shove into my mouth while I assembled a stack of cheeses and meats, or spread paté or hummus or cream cheese or one of many other soft things on a piece of bread.

But I did not get full. I felt hungry because the food was there and I could see it and smell it and taste it, and my mouth kept watering, but I was some way in before I noticed that my hunger pangs had not sated. I was still wolfing down food as though I hadn't eaten for more than 24 hours.

I had to stop and consider that. I didn't feel as if I had eaten at all. My oesophagus appeared to be teleporting food away, not delivering it to my stomach. I even touched the corset over my belly, confirming I was not feeling in the slightest constrained. Which meant I truly was not eating anything solid, but merely feeling and tasting the measurements of solid things. The data from which that food was written had not included bulk.

Meridsya had been sitting to one side of the table in her own chair, legs crossed, watching me with the same burning gaze she gave me whenever she wanted my body. I had been trying to either ignore her or relish that I was doing something I enjoyed but which she, apparently, gained nothing from.

As I realised I was not feeling full, I thought I saw another flash of amusement in her eyes and in the set of her shark-like grin.

"Do you feed off my enjoyment of this?" I asked, not bothering to feminise my voice.

"No," she said.

"I notice I am not getting full," I said before pulling a strip of meat off a cold roast chicken and biting the end off.

"You won't," she said.

"And yet, I am still hungry," I said, still chewing. "Despite eating... well, quite a lot, really." I gestured over the still substantial table of food.

"You are responding to the food. There's nothing in your stomach to tell your brain to stop feeling hungry."

I studied her for a second. "I seem to remember feeling very full only a few minutes ago." I popped the rest of the hunk of chicken into my mouth.

"I wanted you to," she said.

"Constant hunger," I said. "Constant eating without satiation. That seems like a particularly classical idea of torment."

"Someone may have had that idea. May have been exposed to it," she said, another glint in her eye. "Would you like something more filling to eat?"

Her grin became a little bit more predatory.

I did not respond to that. I had been expecting it to happen at some time.

"Not right now," I said, reaching for a dried apricot. "But surely you're getting bored watching me eat."

A definite look of amusement crossed her face without, I was very glad to see, contempt or pity. "Oh, I don't miss what I never do."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather have something yourself?" I asked, as deadpan as I could.

"Oh? Would you like to give me something to swallow?" she asked, taking the subtlety out of the conversation.

"I was thinking of taking this dress off," I said. "It'd be a shame to miss such an opportunity."

She slowly licked her lips with a tongue grown demonically serpentine, folded her long fingers around the arms of her chair, and pushed herself up.

I pushed my chair back and stood with less posing and more assertiveness.

I spun on my heels to march to the bedroom, reaching behind me on the way to unlace the corset.

When I was standing in the middle of the room, I turned around as I kicked off the shoes and unclipped the corset.

Meridsya was stalking slowly towards me, exaggerating the swing of her hips far more than I ever could.

"Would you like me naked?" she asked, coquettishly.

"Just on your knees," I said as I unzipped the back of the dress before pulling it off my shoulders.

With Meridsya already having disposed of my panties, I was quickly naked.

Meridsya stopped in front of me, slowly licked her lips again, then lowered herself to one knee at a time while keeping her gaze locked on mine.

I was hardening quickly.

I ran my hand over her head. At the back of my mind, part of me gibbered with terror at the thought of trying to dominate my terrifying Mistress.

But the rest of me was thinking very hard of everything she had said about us having compatible tastes. That I should act on my desires and I would find her willing. That she was up for anything I was.

She leaned her head into my hand like an adoring puppy.

"Give me your horns," I said.

They sprouted slowly from her head, separating her hair, rising up and curving back. They were, as I had thought, perfect for holding onto.

"And the rest of me?" she asked, lips quirking.

"Up to you," I said.

Her skin stayed human-looking and pale.

"Open," I said.

She stretched her jaw wide, still looking up at me. I slid smoothly into her warm, wet mouth, over her tongue as it curled around me unnaturally long, then pressed against the back of her throat.

Still looking her dead in the eyes, I pushed into her throat and felt it open to receive me. I did not stop until her face was pressed into my belly.

Then, I fucked her mouth and throat the way she had fucked mine.

I had energy and endurance I had never known as a merely biological human. She had a lack of need for oxygen that no human woman could ever know.

I had never before felt the desire to do that. I had once fucked a woman's throat because she asked me to, but even then I had been nervous about hurting her and felt deeply uneasy about such use when I could not immediately see her taking pleasure from it. She had not pleasured herself during it. She had desired the humiliation, the degradation, the use without repayment.

The night had not turned out better than OK, although it had not been entirely unsatisfying.

Yet with Meridsya kneeling before me, I craved to use her, to humiliate her, to degrade her the way she had degraded me.

The wet "glk, glk, glk," sounds coming from her mouth and throat made me harder, made me want to fuck her harder, to use her more roughly.

I almost went into a frenzy, fucking her brutally as she knelt with apparent calm and accepted it while looking up at me with an expression that was somehow a mixture of doe-eyed adoration and amused condescension.

That was the moment realisation hit me like ice water.

What the fuck was I doing? I was trying to hurt her. Trying to abuse her. Trying to degrade her as revenge for her making me do the same thing -- something I had accepted, had not tried to reject, had welcomed and loved and longed for while it was happening.

Was I that ignorant of my own kinks? Did I hate myself that myself? Was I that much of a fucking hypocrite? Was I really the sort of person who would ever do anything like that to anyone?

I didn't think all that, but the awareness crystallised in my head over three mechanical strokes before the shock reached my body and I froze while deep inside Meridsya's throat.

I stared down at her while she looked up at me with what was definitely amusement, her eyes barely visible as her chin pressed into my testicles, her head tilted back and bending my cock in her throat so she could look up at me.

I couldn't abuse her. There was nothing I could do that would degrade her. She had let me work out my irrational anger because she enjoyed it. Probably, it amused her as well as fed her. There was nothing I could make her do that she did not want to do and did not choose to submit to.

She enjoyed it, but I hated myself for doing it.

But there was no denying that I was in her throat, and she was looking up at me with what might have been doe-eyed adoration as much as it might have been amused condescension.

I stopped holding my orgasm at bay, stroked five more times and exploded into her mouth. She must have wanted more. I came almost as much as she had.

I squirted into her throat, then pulled out to fill her mouth. She gulped wetly once, then let some spill over her lips before sucking it back up when I stopped.

I actually staggered back a couple of steps.

She gave me another doe-eyed, challenging, mischievous, inviting look. "Will there be anything else?" she asked in her huskiest voice yet.

I should have felt crushing, black depression after that. But my body did not need to rest, and cock-throbbing arousal is one of the best antidepressants.

I couldn't help myself. I stepped forward again, bent down, pushed my fingers down the front of Meridsya's blouse until I could grab the centre of her bra, while she looked up at me with affected innocence, and tore.

It was a guess. I was guessing she would make it tear even if the fabric would have coped -- and, let's face it, the bra would probably not have torn, although her blouse was thin enough -- and it did, in fact, tear like tissue paper to let her breasts bounce free. I almost suspected she had made them move like that deliberately.

"Crawl to the bed," I said, stepping aside.

Somehow, I had pushed the self-loathing out of my mind and I was back where I was familiar -- playing along, finding out someone's kinks and giving them the thrill of anticipation while carefully deciding how to behave from moment to moment.

Meridsya slowly, slinkily moved onto hands and knees and began to crawl, breasts swinging below her.

As she passed me, I grabbed the back of her skirt and ripped that off, leaving her fully naked as well -- save her shoes, which was a look I found clichéd but amusing.

She didn't react, just kept moving with an exaggerated sway of her hips and rubbing of her thighs.

Her vulva was visible from behind, swollen and glistening.

Have I mentioned yet how high the bed was? I realised why, then, if there had ever been any doubt.

"Get on," I ordered, then, as she stood up to get her arms onto the bed, I shoved her from behind, slamming her hips into the edge of the mattress -- perfectly positioned, funny that -- and shoving her down into it by the back of her neck.

As she gave a delighted gasp of expelled air, I slipped my hand between us, between her legs, and shoved -- not slipped, not slid, not insinuated, but shoved -- two fingers inside her.

The sound she made was so compellingly, intensely erotic that I wondered if she had added a (completely unnecessary) magical spin to it.

I fucked her cunt as vigorously with my fingers as I had fucked her throat with my cock, while leaning almost my whole weight onto her neck to pin her to the bed.

She began gasping with delight. Her hands curled, fingers digging into the bedclothes. Her hips began thrusting back.